


Baby you could be the Death of me

by blackfluffywings



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angsty Wash, Bloodgulch, First Kiss, Fluff, Insomnia and Overthinking, Jokes, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Character Death besides Title, Pre Valhalla, Tucker/Wash, Tuckington - Freeform, reading glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfluffywings/pseuds/blackfluffywings
Summary: He should have known earlier that Tucker couldn’t have meant it the first time he said it in the kitchen. And he definitely didn’t mean it just a few seconds ago, how could he mean it, it was Tucker after all. Tucker who flirted with every single female being on this and any other planet in the whole wide galaxy, constantly reminding everybody of how straight he was. So how in the fucking world could he mean what he just said to Wash?
Relationships: Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	1. What you do to me

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a very long time now and I finally made it and wrote this story. Yay. It wasn't actually meant to go so deep and angsty as it did in the end, so I was a little shocked myself. But I think it's turned out pretty decent and I hope mostly in character, so enjoy reading everyone.  
> 

Wash sighed with contentment and slowly flipped the page of the magazine neatly placed in front of him on the breakfast table. It had taken ages for Command to accept his request of sending a view magazines down to them. Always hanging around in their bases in the Canyon, Blue Team decided to use their monthly entertainment wish granted by their beloved superiors, for something a little less explode-y than new grenades or less stupid than new Crayons for Caboose. ‘ _Blue Team deciding’_ in that case may as well meant Wash turning off the helmet comms of his Teammates in the night before the request was to be sent in, and then acting as if he didn’t know why their gear didn’t work, but he did it for the greater good. At least that’s what he told himself and Tucker when the soldier asked him a few days later why Command refused to get him a vibrating gun. Washington had thanked god or whoever above that he successfully thwarted the possibility of Command actually sending one down. Just imagine, Tucker with… on second thought, you probably rather not imagine anything in particular.

Well anyways, he didn’t quite get Magazines… plural. He got one Magazine. One about cars and engine types currently tested back on earth with new power sources and revolutionary new tech. He probably should have specifically asked for one about something he actually cared about, like weaponry. Or about cooking. Damn he’d kill for one of his Moms casseroles right now.

Lazily flipping through the pages and mainly staring at the colored pictures of futuristic concept cars, he heard somebody enter the kitchen. The Agent sat with the back to the entrance, but from the footsteps silently tapping on the floor he recognized Tucker sneaking about. In the beginning when he had been freshly ‘adopted’ by the Blue Team, he had been suspicious and nervous whenever he’d been in a room with one or more of the soldiers. Anxiety had kicked in; he tensed up and readied himself, his thoughts completely focused, circling around the gun on his back or his pistols at his hips.

Of course he never meant to hurt any of them, but subconsciously he had been ready to pull the trigger if needed. He chased the memories of not so long ago away with a frown. After a little time living among them and a good few weeks of getting used to their ticks, he got more comfortable around each of them, and even though he probably would never say it out loud, considered everyone in this canyon as a part of his weird new patchwork family. None of them was entirely sane or even the slightest bit normal, that’s what held them together the strongest. He learnt many things in the time he had been stuck with the others in Bloodgulch and he wouldn’t want to miss any of it.

Wash lifted his gaze off the current page, explaining a complicated extraction method of mercury and looked at Tucker who appeared at his right side at this moment, snatching the Freelancers coffee mug off the table and taking a deep sip. He clicked his tongue and sighed after yawning, his dreadlocks which were messily put up in a bun, swaying a bit. “Mornin’ Wash. Did you sleep well? Oh right I keep forgetting about your weird sleeping problems…” Wash rolled his eyes. It was too early in the morning for this conversation. “It’s called insomnia.” “… So I guess you didn’t sleep at all and as everyday I’m wondering why I keep asking-“. The mindless babbling suddenly stopped and Wash looked at the now quite man again, not bothering to turn his head. “-Holy mother of god Jesus on a fucking tricycle FUCK… what is this?” Tucker stared at him as if he had just seen a ghost and Wash was pretty sure that the soldier was more wake then when he made him run around the canyon for an hour yesterday. “What the actual…” Being used to the bullshit, Wash couldn’t bring himself to worry even the slightest bit and sheer curiosity spoke out of him when he asked “Are you alright…”

The dark skinned man only lifted his hand in an obscure gesture, waving in front of his own face, then in Wash’s general direction. After levitating in between them for a while, his arm fell to his side again and he stood there gaping with a weird expression on his face which Wash couldn’t read at all.

The third sigh of the day escaped the Agents lips as he leaned back in his swivel chair with a squeak, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at Tucker questioningly. “You wanna read the magazine or what is going on with you?” A lame try to get over the awkward silence that had built up between them. He knew Tucker well by now, and if there was one thing that made him suspicious, it was when the soldier was quite for longer than five seconds. It had been a good minute by now and Wash officially got concerned.

Suddenly Tucker moved and stepped forward, crouching down in front of Washington, so that they were on eye level. He had never heard Tucker speak as seriously and as genuinely confused as when he moved even closer to the Freelancer, not a hand width away from his nose with his own and whispered with squinted eyes “What the fuck is that in your face.”

Wash groaned annoyed and moved back, away from the man, lifting the Magazine off the table and holding it in front of his face, intently blocking Tucker from his view. “I hate you.” Of course did Tucker not get the hint to leave him alone, instead his head shot up, staring above the upper edge of the mag and looking Wash directly in the eye. Brown eyes now wide open in excitement. Wash could literally see the mischief blossom. “Oh my fucking god you’re blind. Who would have thought that mister super soldier here needs glasses to read a stupid car magazine. I cannot believe.” “Fuck off Lavernius, leave me alone if everything you do is make fun of me.” He only got an amazed snicker in return “Oh wow this is hilarious.” “And just for the record I’m not fucking blind, I just need reading glasses for when I read something for a longer time up close so I don’t get a headache.”

His attempts to ignore the staring hazel eyes of the soldier failed miserably. Wash stopped pretending to read the article and openly glared back at Tucker, a hand lifted to slide the glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He needed them as long as he can remember, usually the helmet automatically cleared his vision so he didn’t have to wear them on duty, when cleaning his guns or following a mission briefing. But now in his civil cloths, there was no Spartantech to assure his eyes to function properly, so he had to get back to the classics. The thin steal frame on his nose was a familiar weight and he hadn’t even been aware that Tucker had not seen him with them by now.

Caboose had of course, at least Wash was reading to him almost every day when the soldier in standard blue couldn’t fall asleep or just wanted a little extra attention. He always said that he thought Wash looked very smart when he wore them, although the Freelancer most of the time just ignored their necessity. The dark grey of the glasses was a stark contrast against his rather pale face with the many freckles, but he didn’t consider them looking wrong or unfitting. They made his face look a little sharper but that was about it in his opinion. They make him see and that is what counts.

Tucker still held his gaze and distractedly grabbed the magazine out of Wash’s hands, throwing it on the chair next to him. A grin spread over his pretty face whilst Wash looked like he was experiencing the worst day ever in his whole career. “You know…” Tucker started again, lifting his hand a second time, the tips of his fingers slightly brushing Wash’s right cheekbone just underneath the glasses.

“… You actually look hot as fuck with those.” Definitely worst workday ever. Of all fucking time.

Poor Wash could physically feel the blush creeping up his neck and he blinked twice, opening and closing his mouth trying to find the right words to describe his done-ness with the Sim-trooper. A bunch of silent seconds passed and who are we kidding, he couldn’t think of anything nearly appropriate to say. It was a rushed “If you say so, but I’d like to continue reading the article now, thanks.” what Wash hastily answered after thirty deadly quite seconds of being painfully aware of their proximity.

Tucker only kept on grinning like the idiot he was and then took a step back to Wash’s relief. “I know that you don’t give a fuck about cars, you are just too flattered by my dashing appearance to think of anything else.” The blushing intensified. Fuck. “Yeah right...”. “No need to deny it dear, I’ll leave you to your article then, see ya later.” He got himself a thermos of coffee and left, not without flashing a toothy grin at Wash and winking at him.

When Tucker had left the kitchen, Washington released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. What the actual fuck just happened? He leaned back in his chair again and stared at the dirty ceiling above him, his face still felt uncomfortably hot. Fucking tendency to blush easily... A spider was busy expanding its net in a corner of the room and Wash felt like it was mocking him for his dumb sensibility. He had given Tucker a new thing to tease him with, and this was never a good thing to happen. The absolute opposite was the case; it usually made his everyday life a hundred times harder and definitely a tenfold more embarrassing.

He usually tried to avoid showing insecurities like that just for the sake of his own sanity. Of course it was just him having to wear glasses, a totally normal thing, but this small thing created a giant pool of opportunities for roasting. There was not much business in Bloodgulch; killing time was their profession when they weren’t busy trying to ’kill’ the Reds, and what gets you through the day faster than teasing other people. Especially if said people were your superior and exceptionally easy to make jokes about cause they were too polite and socially awkward to counter them.

The memories of the first weeks of Tucker finding out about his insomnia or when he accidentally let slip that he had a cat when he was younger, still haunted him in his sleepless nights. All these innuendos and puns... He was positive that he wouldn’t survive a month (if he was lucky and it didn’t stick longer) of Tucker making sexy teacher or librarian jokes about him. He’d simply die. “Oh god I’m fucked.” And yes, he definitely was. But in a whole other way then he thought at this particular moment to himself.


	2. It's just not fair

Weirdly, nothing happened. After two days of silence concerning Wash’s reading glasses, the agent’s suspicions grew. When day four passed and Tucker still didn’t make one snarky comment, an absolutely inappropriate innuendo or even the slightest joke, Washington was sure he was going insane. Either there was coming up a joke that’d be his absolute destruction and Tucker just waited for the perfect moment to happen or the soldier must be deadly sick. There was just no way, that he let an opportunity such as the given one simply slip by without using it for his own amusement.

As glad as Wash was that there weren’t any jokes being made about him, he found himself constantly waiting for it; distracted in the simplest tasks, always having an eye out for Tucker, waiting for it to happen. The worst part of it all was that Tucker, in spite of carefully avoiding the topic of Wash’s glasses, acted the same way as usual. He called Caboose an idiot on a daily basis, totally didn’t participate in Leg-Day and went about his daily routine the same way as ever. There were a few times where Wash had been absolutely sure the joke was about to come, but he had always been wrong about it. Tucker kept his mouth shut and Wash was dancing on the edge of sanity.

It was day five after the awkward kitchen encounter they had shared, when finally something happened.

Wash was minding his usual business patrolling the border of the Blues’ side in the Canyon, when a loud somehow distorted yell echoed from the mighty stonewalls surrounding him. He recognized Cabooses’ voice and was wondering why on earth the soldier screamed his name on top of his lungs through the whole place. Even the Reds must have heard it. He had been distracted by his overthinking and worrying again which he thought absolutely had to stop. This was turning into an unhealthy obsession about something this miniscule, if not entirely imaginary. After blankly staring into nothingness for a few more seconds and clearing his mind with deep breaths, he turned to go see what was up with his team member.

Caboose was running around in circles in front of their base disoriented and Wash was there in the exact moment, when the soldier in standard blue face first ran into the cement wall, at least five feet away from the entrance which he seemed to have aspired to go through. “Oh no, my head.” So it was his visor again, of fucking course. Wash had to keep himself from groaning annoyed. Those old Mark V Helmets sure had some flaws, but Cabooses’ was to phrase it nicely and totally accurate, absolute garbage. Every three weeks at least one of the assistance components (which the blue sim trooper desperately needed) malfunctioned and left him without sight like now, with his radio all static or the helmet just cut itself off the power source leaving poor Caboose in darkness and complete armour lockdown.

“Caboose calm down, it’s your visor again. Take the helmet off, I’ll take care of it.” A gruff was audible from beneath him and Caboose just lay still on the floor, ripping his helmet clumsily off his head. It slipped out his armour clad hands and rolled in Wash’s direction. “Washington?” “Yes Caboose?” He lay there like a corpse motionlessly on the floor staring up at Wash with his sky blue eyes. “Can I have your helmet? I want to finish the movie I was watching.” Wash questioningly furrowed his brow, which Caboose couldn’t see of course, as he still wore his own blue and yellow helmet. “You are aware that we don’t have a… ‘Movie-playing-function’ in our visors?” Caboose just blinked and stayed quite for a few second. “Yes I think that Sheila is beautiful as well.”

Wash just huffed, chose to ignore Cabooses usual nonsense and took his helmet off handing it to the other who took it with a bright smile. Should he have his fun. The former freelancer collected the Mark V helmet off the ground and went to gather some tools to repair it. A few minutes later he was sitting down on the floor of his room, several screws, pieces of blue steel and computer chips scattered around him. He carefully took out a wire and tried to readjust it, which only ended in the helmet giving off a hissing puff of smoke and a nasty electrical burnt smell started to creep through the room.

“Oh god damn it come on you fucking thing.” Wash was really tired of fixing this stupid and definitely broken helmet whilst repeatedly burning the tips of his fingers. With a loud clank the helmet was set down on the floor, probably more forcefully then was good for this godforsaken thing and Wash kneaded the bridge of his nose thoroughly, trying to think of another way to fix the offending piece of armour. He smeared his cheek with a bit of oil when he decided to take a break for a minute or two and found his thoughts immediately going back to wondering where Tucker was currently at and which devious plan to humiliate him he was working on.

He brushed the glasses subconsciously further up his nose and stared at a tiny wire sticking out of the blue helmet’s top. 

Something appeared in the corner of his eye and Wash didn’t even have to check to be sure who it was. _Speaking of the devil_. Out of curiosity he stayed in his current position, sitting cross-legged on the floor, thumb and index finger pinching his nose and pushing his glasses down a bit. Tucker didn’t move. Wash still hasn’t looked at him, but he could almost feel the stare boring into his forehead. He was closing his eyes for a second and collecting inner strength for whatever conversation he would have to face in a second. Regardless of his spreading unease he lifted his chin and looked Tucker straight in the eyes, left eyebrow arched in suspicion. “What is it Tucker, why do you keep looking at me as if I just discovered the cure for cancer?”

The other man slightly shifted and leaned against the doorframe flashing a grin at Wash “Oh it is nothing… is Cabooses’ helmet finally done for good?” Wash couldn’t believe it. Why wasn’t he saying something? He kept staring through his glasses at Tucker while he answered him, not believing the possibly false security. “Nah, I just can’t find the burnt circuit. You know how much he loves this helmet I can’t just give it up and tell him to take one of the new ones.” “Well it would certainly be in favour of you wasting your time on that thing.” Tucker sat down in front of him stretching his legs out in a V and started to pick through the different parts Wash had gotten out of the helmet. The dark skinned man held a wire with red isolation up and looked at it, probably trying to figure out anything about its burnt-ness. It seemed like he didn’t come to a conclusion and was back at staring at Wash trying to get another chip card out of the back of the armour piece. Wash felt under the stare as if he was burning and his concentration vanished way too quickly for his liking.

That was it; he was officially done with worrying about what jokes were to come, when they would come and how bad they would be. He had to be able to concentrate properly again, the last few days have been an endless torture of overthinking way too much. Maybe he would piss off Tucker, offend him, but seriously he was done caring about it. Maybe the other man didn’t have kind of social anxiety and the fear of never being good enough, well good for him, because Wash definitely did. Thanks to Project Freelancer for that. And he was not going to let himself be treated that way anymore, for once he tried to actually confront the matter not just introspectively but also personally. Fuck the angst. A clank again, the helmet was back on the floor. Wash crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively, sighing deeply and holding Tuckers hazel-brown gaze for a few seconds before he couldn’t stand it no more and bluntly asked “When are you going to make the joke. Please, make fun of me and my glasses I can’t stand that uncertainty of waiting for it every second of the day. It’s driving me crazy.”

Now it was Tuckers turn to arch his brow and he crooked his head to the right observing Wash in what seemed to him like… concern? “What are you talking about Wash. Why should I make a joke about your glasses?”

Wash was totally taken aback and after blinking a few times, recollecting his thoughts he enquired further “Urm, because every tiny detail you have come to know about me has been turned into at least one joke from you? Like my cat when I was young. The fact that a car hit me. Twice. Why should it be any different with my disability do see things close to my face? I was sure for at least one joke or innuendo to come… Oh wait.” Wash just remembered five days earlier, the breakfast table. If he recalled correctly, Tucker had said he thought Wash looked hot with his glasses. Oh god how stupid had he been. Of course THAT was the joke he had waited for all the time. He just- he didn’t think of it as a joke at times, he didn’t realize. How dumb of him. How fucking dumb of him to think Tucker could have sincerely meant what he had said.

The blush was back, up his neck to his cheeks and he suddenly felt sad, stupid and childish. He just wanted to be alone at the moment. But apparently he wasn’t alone right now. When he looked up again Tucker was still glaring at him, now Wash was sure to see a tone of concern and worry in the other man’s eyes. “What, _‘oh wait’_? I haven’t made a joke about it because I don’t think it’s funny. I mean come on its just glasses, its way fucking funnier to remember that car hauling you over a field like half a mile far.” Wash knew that the statement was meant to reassure him and make him smile, but it really didn’t do its job. Somehow Tuckers way of deflecting seriousness with jokes just made the whole thing worse than it was before. Wash didn’t want to start a fight though, he also wasn’t mad at Tucker, that was just the soldier being his truest self. He was mad at himself.

And so he kept quiet and just said “Yeah nevermind it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Tucker smiled at him again and he returned the gesture half-heartedly. He felt like he had been stabbed in the gut. More than once. But he swallowed quickly and pushed the thoughts about the issue away, keeping them back in his mind for later when he was alone.

Tucker continued to look at him but Wash found that he didn’t mind it anymore. That terrible uncertain itch was gone and at least that was a relieve. Tucker stretched his limbs and went to get up again; but staying crouched on eye level with Washington a second longer though. “Also, having a cat obsession as a kid is not hot. Being hit by a car, twice, is definitely not hot; remember how your arm was all weird? That wasn’t hot. But man. Have you seen yourself wearing these incredibly simple glasses? It shouldn’t be hot… but fuck me if it isn’t.” Hazel eyes stared into steel grey ones a moment longer before Tucker stood up fully and left Wash’s room without another word, one of his signature flashy smiles on his lips.

Leaving behind a totally confused Washington, sitting on the floor between helmet parts and wondering how he got himself into this mess. Well the joke was finally delivered at least. The worst kind of joke, the one that goes straight for the heart.

He should have known earlier that Tucker couldn’t have meant it the first time he said it in the kitchen. And he definitely didn’t mean it just a few seconds ago, how could he mean it, it was Tucker after all. Tucker who flirted with every single female being on this and any other planet in the whole wide galaxy, constantly reminding everybody of how straight he was. So how in the fucking world could he mean what he just said to Wash? Washington was positive that he absolutely didn’t mean it. He mentally slapped himself for even considering that the statement five days earlier could have been sincerely Tucker thinking he was hot. That would have been too good to be true.

If Wash would be a little more sentimental he probably would have cried by how he felt right now. But he wasn’t and the only thing he felt right now was dull. Like a shadow copy of himself in this world, existing for no specific purpose. Just being there, not feeling anything at all.

 _That definitely makes a lot of material to overthink and worry about_ , he thought to himself with dry sarcasm. For a second he really had thought that Tucker meant what he said, a frighteningly large part of Wash wanted to believe the words he just heard. But his rationality cut the hope in teeny tiny pieces and threw them out of his window immediately. He would have to give himself a few days to comprehend the hurt he felt at the moment and make sure for things to go back to normal as soon as possible. He just had to. Being weak doesn’t serve anybody and he still had his team to take care of.

A silent thump echoed when the computer chip fell out of his trembling fingers and hit the tiled floor. With a shuddering breath he got back to work on the helmet, intentionally ignoring the dull pain within him and the metal taste of blood on his lips from where he bit them subconsciously.

It would be a long rest of the day, but even a longer night, he knew that.

Painfully being kept awake by insomnia as usual and his own toxic mind, hoping for things he’d never achieve, making it even harder to get over them, through the illusions and back to his reality; where things were harsh and true and definitely never as sweet and beautiful as in his dreams, no matter how much he wished for one tiny miracle – reality stayed the way it’s always been; cruel and unfair, covered up in a wrap of false hopes and jokes.


	3. All about you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst writing this chapter I had my Spotify shuffle going and came across a song that I think really fits this ship. It's called Two punks in Love by bülow. I really recommend checking it out sometimes, the artist itself as well, they write great songs with a lot of meaning. Anyways, this is the final chapter, thanks to you all for reading and to everyone who already diligently left Kudos for me ^^ I really appreciate it. So that being said, enjoy it y'all

Despite his good intentions of _‚Just getting over the hurt’_ Wash grew more and more annoyed and hot headed every day. The former Freelancer really didn’t mean to snap at Caboose that one time, but why did he keep being so fucking annoying? He tried to work through his emotional mess the past week and that had only made it worse. There was no way to just get over the pain Tuckers joke had inflicted on him, so he stuck with ignoring the entire issue. Another one of his master classes apparently, besides sleeplessly overthinking and hiding crushes on team mates. He was a real pro in that, at least he thought so. Of course, the complete opposite was the actual matter. It would have been a lot easier if he could just be mad at Tucker for cracking jokes like that, but he couldn’t. He just could not be mad at anyone besides himself. He should have known at least. It happened often enough when he was younger to get used to and learn to never really blindly trust the things being said, at least not without minimally questioning the true intentions behind the words. It was his fault after all, keeping on hoping and not actually thinking about it, so why blame others for it all.

Another two days passed with Wash being an absolutely closed up bitch towards his teammates. Caboose simply avoided him, when the soldier sees Wash he now just keeps turning on his heel and walking in the other direction. The bad mood that Washington emitted was just something Caboose couldn’t easily handle so he didn’t even try to. Last evening when Wash had gone to his room after brooding over his dinner sandwich, he found a wrinkled leaf and a red tulip carefully placed on his pillow with a note that read in Cabooses unsteady handwriting: _hope you will bee better Agent Washingtub, Im sorry if your mad because of somthing I did._ It broke Wash’s heart when he read it but he stayed silent anyways and went to lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if that would make it any better or his problems go away.

It was the following morning when Wash’s patience and discipline, very unlike him, snapped. It was one of their absolute basic rules at Blue Team that everybody in the base had to put the kitchenware in the dishwasher themselves. Of course no one actually did and Wash was taking care of it like the mom-friend he was.

Occasionally he would remind Tucker to just put it away himself but you can guess what Tucker changed about his behaviour. Exactly, nothing. Wash was fine with it though and usually just accepted it and cleaned up the plates and knives left in the sink. But lately he’d been really on edge, was running on like three hours of sleep and was done with himself and his mind working up everything. So when he entered the kitchen around midday after he finished the Blues’ daily workout routine and wanted to get Caboose a piece offering in form of a cookie, and he saw a mug literally sticking to the steel sink leaving a nasty coffee stain when he lifted it up in disgust, a switch in his head flipped and he exploded.

The cookie was forgotten and he slowly walked out the base again. Stomping in Tuckers direction with a furious expression, he continued to rip his helmet off and carelessly threw it on the ground with a thud. Stopping not even three feet away from Tucker he practically yelled through gritted teeth, “Why the fuck is it too hard for you to put your fucking mug in the dishwasher yourself. I’m not your fucking Bitch for everything around here, so please for fucks sake take care of your bullshit yourself!”

Tucker stared at him with a blank expression. Wash saw the other man’s lip quiver a bit and he actually seemed a little scared of him. Caboose in the background just jogged away disturbed. The former freelancer couldn’t bring himself to care even the slightest. He saw red. Of course he knew that he was taking it too far with screaming, that it was less than fair and that Tucker definitely didn’t deserve him being furious with a little a reason as a coffee mug left in the sink, but in this moment it didn’t matter to Wash. Life was unfair, that’s just how it is sometimes.

With squinted eyes he clenched his fists on his sides and stared Tucker down, the Sim Trooper took a step back from him and for the blink of an eye a hurt expression flashed over his features. Tucker was chewing on his lower lip and avoided eye contact with Wash, staying untypically silent.

“I’m fucking done.” Was the last thing he said before he abruptly turned around and headed for his room again with an annoyed huff. For the rest of the day he sat sulking in his room and wasted his time on Cabooses helmet which he finally managed to fix up again. He hated himself for snapping and overreacting like that, he didn’t even know why he had become so furious.

It probably was the sleep deprivation and the constant on-going process of suppressing feelings. How could you act any different than cranky and moody with eating up everything that bothers you?

The only next thing he did was in the evening, when the guilt overcame him like a depressive wave. The Cookie from the kitchen in his left hand and the fixed up helmet tucked under his right arm, he knocked on Cabooses door and entered slowly when he heard a muffled confirmation. Thirty minutes of reassuring and apologizing to Caboose later, Wash was back in his room and finally decided to try and work through and sort the mess of emotions way back in his head. He just had to figure them out; it was not an option to go on like this any longer.

His clock showed 1:08 am when he was finally done and opened his eyes. Still in the same position than hours before, sitting on the floor and leaning on his bedroom wall. The tiles beneath him were cold but he didn’t mind them. An almost full moon was shining through the only window in the room, casting weird shadows on the opposite walls. Washington got up and stretched his tired limbs before opening his door with a slight creak and stepping out into the hallway. Silent footsteps tapped until he reached the exit of their base and he stepped outside into the warm night.

A handful of stars were shining above him on the dark blue night sky, making Wash feel all tiny and unimportant. It was kind of relieving to think about it. To be sure for a little time that nothing he did really mattered. It halted his thoughts and stilled his never ending worries. Whilst walking to a near small hill behind blue base he took a few deep breaths and forced himself to relax; letting go of all the tension and stress. A few steps up the hill he was sitting down, knees to his chest , closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. The wind smoothly brushed through his hair, calming him further and whistling silently.

It seemed like forever ago, the last time that he just thought about nothing. Like in this precise moment, with the grass tickling his ankles and the stars blinking above him. He lifted his head and stared at the moon and his tiny companions in silent awe. He’s come a long way in his life and he was wondering what he would have turned out to be if he hadn’t signed up for project freelancer. All the people he wouldn’t have met, all the lessons he had learned along his way. It has not always been okay and easy, in fact most of the times have been a horrible experience, definitely not good for his mental health and straining his will to live almost to none-existence.

But now, as he was sitting there on this tiny hill in the middle of nowhere, he was content with how far he’d come. But way more important, he was satisfied with who he’d become. Of course he was broken, who the fuck wasn’t? But he had changed, in his opinion to the better and he was okay with himself. That was an important thing to him which he finally had managed to figure out.

A deep breath escaped his lips and he rested his chin on his knees. A shooting star rushed in eternal haste past the moon, when Wash’s attention was caught by a nearly inaudible rustling of the grass behind him. A tiny smile snuck on his lips and he closed his eyes listening to the steps approaching him steadily. They stopped and someone sat down right next to Washington, staying silent except for the smooth sound of cloths shifting.

After a little while of silence, Wash tilted his head to the right and looked at Tucker who was observing the sky, stars mirrored in his hazel eyes. Wash’s glance wandered from the other man’s eyes over his cheekbones to his lips and his jawline, mesmerized by his face dripped in the cold moonlight looking strangely foreign but at the same time as familiar as never before.

Tucker turned his head and looked at Wash as well; to his surprise he couldn’t find a trace of anger in the other’s eyes. The time seemed to stop a moment, before Wash broke the silence. “I’m sorry for earlier Lavernius.” Tuckers face stayed neutral except for a little smile on his lips. “It’s okay Wash. But seriously. What’s been bothering you the past days? I’ve never seen you so distressed.” For a moment Wash considered his options, then his mind turned blank again when he gazed back at the man on his right. “You want to know the truth?” Tucker just nodded, his dark locks swaying a bit.

“Okay then.” He only continued after figuring out how to confront the issue as rational as possible. “You know, the day you saw me with my glasses in the kitchen and said it looked hot? I’ve been waiting the following week for some jokes from you to come. I was sure you would say something; it bothered me a lot and I thought way too much about it. Anyways, when we had the conversation in my room… I- I realized…” He had to stop for a moment and averted his gaze from Tucker’s, being back at staring at the sky. “I did realize that you already made the joke I had been waiting for all the time by saying that I looked hot. It’s a dumb reason to be upset I know, don’t judge me for that. I think I just hoped it- it was meant sincerely, but never mind.” A little pause followed and then he added only whispering anymore. “It’s okay now, I was dumb.”

Tucker next to him was silent and then a sigh followed. Wash couldn’t look at him when the other man softly spoke up. “Oh Wash.” More silence, there unexpectedly was a hand placed on top Wash’s in the grass. “You really think I was joking about that?” A tender breeze made Wash shiver a bit and he wanted to give into the upcoming hope but he didn’t fall for it this time. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be a joke, it came from you after all.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tucker sounded a little offended but Wash genuinely appreciated the others effort to talk seriously about the issue.

“It means that last time I checked, I was a man and my glasses make me look ‘smart’ if anything at all. So nothing compared to a hot chick for you to pick up.” Still not looking at Tucker he waited for an answer and found himself distracted by the warmth of the soldiers hand atop of his. _Why is he doing that?_

Another “Oh Wash.” followed shortly after, this time dragged out a little longer than before though. “Would you look at me when I talk to you please? I remotely remember you telling me it’s rude not doing so.” Wash rolled his eyes and tilted his head again, looking at Tucker as he had asked him. They watched each other silently for a moment, grey and hazel eyes meeting again.

“Wash, I literally told you twice, and you still don’t believe my words and think I’m pulling off a mean and totally insensitive joke?” Well, phrased it like that I sounded kind of ridiculous, Wash had to admit.

“… Yes.”

Another sigh followed and Wash stared at his slightly parted lips for a second before looking him in the eyes again. “Okay. Then believe me now when I say that no chick is worth anything compared to you. I mean, yeah boobs and all... but I’d gladly renounce them if it meant I could have you. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not lying. And just for the record, the glasses don’t particularly make you look hot; they only further increase your hotness. So please stop moping and get into your pretty little head that I didn’t make one joke about it.” There it was again, the blush. This time Wash didn’t mind it though and he could do nothing else at the moment but speechlessly gape at Tucker.

The confession was hanging in the air between them until Wash finally was able to think again. “You meant it all the time?” Tucker rolled his eyes with a sigh and brought their hands up between them, keeping them close to his chest. “Yes, David, I did.” His name had an extra meaningful tone accompanying Tuckers voice and that probably was what made Wash snap out of his delirium and made him aware of everything that Tucker had said to him; not just the words, but the assumptions and the true meaning behind them. He really had been dumb.

“Oh wow, I’m really socially incompetent…” Tucker chuckled at that “Don’t worry about, it makes me go crazy sometimes but I love it about you.”

Wash only stared at him with a small smile on his lips and now when he looked into Tuckers eyes he could see that he honestly meant it. The concern from earlier was gone and replaced with tenderness and untypically for Tucker, a little bit of shyness. Now Wash chuckled and placed the hand not occupied by Tucker carefully stroking it, on the man’s shoulder, pulling him in a little.

“I really believe you this time.”

Wash still smiled when he kissed Tucker sweetly, lips brushing against each other soft as feathers. Wash found this moment to be even more perfect than all the times he had daydreamed about it.There was a spark in Tuckers eyes when he opened them again once he broke their kiss after a while.

“You know, you’re really an idiot sometimes.”

“I know, you too. And the next time, get your fucking mug in the dishwasher.” Tucker laughed a little and scooted closer to Wash, leaning against his shoulder adoringly. “I took your helmet to your locker by the way, you forgot it earlier.” “Yeah I know thanks.” Their hands lay on Wash’s knee and Tucker drew lazy circles with his thumb on the others palm.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s proximity when another shooting star raced across the night sky. It was Wash who spoke up first again. “Why are you awake at this time though? I thought I was the only on in this canyon with weird sleeping problems.” Turning his head to the right he took in Tuckers profile again, moonlight caressing his features. 

“I was worrying about you and I was pretty sure that you were still up. When I heard your door I decided to go check on you. At the time I was sure you’d probably chase me off thought…” Wash chuckled again, gripping Tuckers hand a little tighter. “We should probably go to sleep though, I promised Caboose to make flower crowns together tomorrow and as I know him he’ll wake us at seven in the morning because he can’t wait for it.”

Tucker grunted but slowly got up, not letting go of Wash’s hand and dragging him up as well. “Okay, let’s go.”

They shared a comfortable silence on their way back to the base and when they stood in the hallway where their ways usually part, it was Tucker who still held onto his hand and turned to face Washington directly. Wash could have sworn that he blushed when he asked carefully “Mind staying?”

Was looked at him and this time he didn’t cage up the hope in his mind. He let it embrace him and wholeheartedly accepted the warmth that spread within him. “If you watch your hands and for once actually wear something in bed. Sure.”

Tucker arched an eyebrow and asked in mock shock “Oh my god. Wash dear, what do you do to me? Having me already break my habits for you.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before he pulled Wash in for a second tender kiss. “Now that I actually got you, how could I do something intentionally to drive you away from me again?” “Oh come on, that will definitely happen. Who are you kidding?”

They laughed, still stood in the hallway. “Yeah you’re right. I guess I can just hope for you not letting me chase you off again.”

“Let that be my worries. I’m good at worrying.”

Tucker pecked his lips lovingly again and opened the door to his room. “You got enough time to worry tomorrow, now let’s get some sleep before Caboose comes for us. That idiot”

He dragged Wash inside and shut the door behind them with a kick.

Wash still couldn’t believe it. Even now as he was snuggled up next to Tucker, his arm draped loosely over the others narrow hips, it all seemed like a dream to him. He looked at Tucker and brushed one of his dreadlocks out of his face.

Even if it turned out to be a dream after all, he definitely would enjoy and savour every second of it.

The silent snoring and Tuckers chest heaving up and down evenly against his own were too real to be a dream though. So Wash decided to forget his worries, and for once he was actually able to do so; to simply fall asleep with his favourite dream coming to live in the person beside him.


End file.
